


Boundaries

by LerxstInSpace



Series: Breaking and Entering [3]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Enthusiastic Consent, Flustered Reeve Tuesti, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerxstInSpace/pseuds/LerxstInSpace
Summary: “I like--” Reeve gestures broadly with his free hand, indicating the two of them stretched out on the sofa together.“This.But it’s starting to go in a direction I’m not sure is... I’d just feel better if I had a clearer picture of where your boundaries are.” He turns his head to nuzzle the top of Tseng’s. “I don’t know. Maybe Iamoverthinking this but... please just humor me?”
Relationships: Tseng/Reeve Tuesti
Series: Breaking and Entering [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160927
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Boundaries

“Mmm. ...mm!? ... _dammit!"_

“What?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, just--let me up--”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh...” There are very few ways to put this delicately, and Reeve is having a hard ti--no, God no, _worst possible word choice--_ a great deal of difficulty thinking of any of them right now. “I... I know what you said,” he starts. “About not being into...”

“Mmhm...”

“Well...” Nervous chuckle. “I... I think someone, uh... _downstairs_ maybe didn’t get the memo?”

There’s a long pause between them, one that feels like it should be considerably more awkward than it really is. Reeve certainly doesn’t expect Tseng to break it by ducking his head back down to deliver another one of those deep lazy kisses that caused this whole problem. Well. Maybe the kisses didn’t cause the whole problem. Maybe the way Tseng was just sort of _lounging_ on him caused part of the problem. Actually, it doesn’t matter what caused the problem. The point is, this is not what Reeve expected him to do about it.

He’s not complaining, absolutely not, but it’s definitely not what he expected.

“I’m not seeing a problem here,” Tseng says when he finally comes up for air, leaving Reeve breathless and bewildered under him. “It’s an involuntary response. It happens. I understand that.”

“But--here, let me up, I’ll--I’ll go walk it off or something, just--”

_"Walk it off._ Really?" Tseng does not let him up. “You're adorable. It’s all right, I promise. Actually, if it helps...” God, the way Tseng is looking at him isn’t making the problem any easier to solve. The smile that spreads across his face isn’t either. “It’s kind of exciting, knowing I have that effect on you."

Reeve swallows hard. "That does help and at the same time also kind of doesn't help."

"I promise you, I'm fine with it. But it's clearly making _you_ uncomfortable.” Tseng lays his head down on Reeve’s chest and, thankfully, shimmies the rest of himself over to settle between Reeve’s side and the back of the couch instead of continuing to lounge on top of him the way he’s been doing all evening. “Gil for your thoughts?”

It’s easier for Reeve to compose those thoughts now, now that he doesn’t have the weight and warmth of Tseng’s hip pressed down into the worst/best possible place. They’ve talked about this, sort of. It was one of the things Tseng made sure to tell him right up front when they finally got around to acknowledging the mutual attraction that had been gently simmering between them for weeks. 

_I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t offer you a chance to walk away from this,_ Tseng had said that night, arms around Reeve’s waist, chin gently digging into his shoulder. _I should warn you now before things get to that point... I’m not into sex._

(That was actually the second thing Tseng had offered him the chance to walk away from. Reeve tries not to think too much about the first one, and it’s the last thing on his mind right now.)

Reeve did not walk away. He was fine with that. More than fine with that, actually. It was a relief. Tseng had just spent the better part of that evening giving him what was probably the best shoulder rub he’d ever had in his entire life, one he would have absolutely without question put out for. 

...or at least seriously considered putting out for. 

...if Tseng had asked very, very nicely. 

...and maybe taken him out for dinner a couple of times first.

But Tseng didn’t ask for that and he _wouldn’t_ ask for that and it was nice to just for once get an amazing shoulder rub that didn’t have strings attached. It was so damn _refreshing,_ entering into a new relationship where he didn’t have to worry about getting dumped when the third date didn’t end in bed.

Tseng went on to mention that there were things he was okay with (and he seemed _very_ okay with it when their date nights started wrapping up with extended makeout sessions like this one--hell, Tseng was the one who _started_ the makeout sessions), though he didn’t get into specifics and at that point Reeve didn’t think they mattered all that much. All that mattered at the time was that this was fine. It was just a different set of physical intimacy parameters than he was used to, and he could adjust and it would be fine. And he was sure they would have a more in-depth conversation about those parameters at some point, so he didn’t worry about it then.

Of course that was before the makeout sessions started and, well... _now_ he’s worried about it. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“You haven’t even come close. Relax.”

“Not even by accident.”

“You’re overthinking this, Reeve.”

“I’m an engineer. _I get paid to overthink things.”_

“Not anymore you don’t, _Director_ Tuesti _._ Now you have people to overthink things for you. And besides that, we’re off the clock.” Tseng picks up his head just enough to press a good solid kiss onto Reeve’s shoulder, warm and comforting through the soft flannel of his shirt. “I said _relax.”_

Easy for him to say.

“I just...” Playing with Tseng’s hair seems to be a safe thing to do right now, something to keep at least one of Reeve’s hands busy, an innocent little thing to keep his mind from wandering to spicier subjects. He gently picks up a handful and lets it slip through his fingers like water while he gathers his thoughts again. “I like--” He gestures broadly with his free hand, indicating the two of them stretched out on the sofa together. _“This._ But it’s starting to go in a direction I’m not sure is... I’d just feel better if I had a clearer picture of where your boundaries are.” He turns his head to nuzzle the top of Tseng’s. “I don’t know. Maybe I _am_ overthinking this but... please just humor me?”

“All right, all right.” Tseng wraps an arm around Reeve’s waist. “Where do you want me to start?”

They start with what Reeve considers the most urgent order of business: the no-fly list. The things Tseng is absolutely not okay with doing, ever.

There are the obvious things, the things one would normally think of as being filed in a folder labelled _things that count as actual for real sex._ All of which Reeve expected to be off the table, no surprises there. And Tseng, bless him, keeps his description of that part of the list as brief and clinical as possible. 

What he didn’t expect was to learn that while Tseng does not want to actually _do_ any of these particular things, while he knows if he did them he would not enjoy them at all... he likes the _idea_ of some of them.

“I think you lost me on that one,” Reeve admits, and Tseng laughs softly into his shoulder.

“I’ll come back to it.”

It’s probably just as well. There’s still some ground to cover on this part of the conversation. That ground is mostly a list of places Tseng doesn’t want touched and/or kissed. It’s a surprisingly short list.

Like his feet. The soles, in particular. Understandable, and that’s not a thing Reeve is especially into anyway. 

And basically anything between the belt and mid-thigh is off-limits.

“Shit,” Reeve sighs, noticing the way they’re stretched out on the couch together, noticing the way they’re touching pretty much everywhere between their shoulders and their knees, and he starts to sit up. “Then is this--”

“No. This is fine,” Tseng assures him, one hand on his chest, gently pressing him back down. “This is... incidental contact. I like this. It bothers me when it’s... targeted, I suppose is the word I’m looking for. This is fine. Hands or mouth... no.”

He is, however, perfectly fine with a gentle hand on a clothed hip and might, given time and a solid foundation of earned trust, eventually be okay with that hand on his bare hip. That’s a relief, because that _is_ a thing Reeve thinks he might do without really thinking about it.

The top of that particular list isn’t really something Reeve expected: his ears. He’s fine with having them touched, but...

“No mouth. No teeth, no lips, nothing, inside or out, ever. It’s too sensitive. And not in a way that feels good. It’s like fingernails on a blackboard. Just--” Tseng shudders against Reeve’s side. “Just the thought of a tongue in my ear makes my skin crawl.”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Reeve combs his fingers through Tseng’s hair and presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. “It’s enough for me that you don’t like it. You don’t have to justify it.”

“I know.” Tseng wraps his arm around Reeve’s waist and gives him a reassuring squeeze. 

There are a few other things to watch out for, Tseng says, but there’s a bit of leeway on those, and they’re tied in with some of the things he _does_ like.

The list of things he _does_ like is a considerably longer list. Some of those items... well, they haven’t _discussed_ those, not exactly, but they’ve already been explored at great length and in very fine detail. 

For example: he likes it when Reeve plays with his hair. 

He’s mentioned before that it isn’t something he’s let many of his previous partners do, but he likes the way Reeve does it. He likes how gentle Reeve is with it, how careful he is to treat it with respect and not pull it or tangle it or use it as a set of reins or anything else unpleasant. He’s also mentioned that he normally doesn’t let anyone else wash or brush it for him, but he thinks he might eventually be okay with Reeve doing it.

It seems to have a mind of its own, sometimes. Sometimes, during their post-date makeout sessions, Tseng sweeps it over his shoulder and onto his back and it stays there. Sometimes it just spills forward over his shoulders no matter how much he tries to keep it back, and there’s not a thing either of them can do about it. It’s heavy and thick and glossy and soft to the touch, and Reeve has found himself wondering more than once what it would feel like pouring over his bare shoulder, pooling on his chest.

He likes to cuddle. 

That one kind of surprised Reeve at first. Under normal circumstances, Tseng does not give off a vibe that could even loosely be classified as “cuddly,” even when he’s off duty. But once it was firmly established that Reeve was willing to respect his boundaries, personal space just kind of went out the window. Not that Reeve has a problem with Tseng using him for a full-body pillow. Absolutely not. He loves it. 

He _has_ noticed that he’s always the pillow and Tseng is always on top of him, and somehow he gets the impression trying to do this the other way around wouldn’t go over quite as well. And that’s fine too. He’s perfectly happy to be the pillow. And Tseng is fine with being a back rest when they’re on the couch and not quite as horizontal as they are now, which is also nice.

He likes to be kissed, too. 

Reeve knows that very well. It’s how this whole conversation started, after all; those deep, lazy, _hungry_ kisses that sap the strength from Reeve’s legs and fill his insides with warmth, like a sip of good bourbon does on its way down. Sometimes they taste a little like good bourbon too, if they’ve had a drink or two that evening.

He figured Tseng might like to be kissed other places besides his lips. He’s found himself lying awake way too late at night wondering what, exactly, those places might be. And he figured, when this part of the conversation started, that Tseng would tell him about a few of those places. 

He does more than tell. He shows. He _invites._

Tseng sits up, sweeps his hair back over his shoulder, and traces a fingertip down the side of his neck, all the way down to the open collar of his shirt, and whispers: “Here.”

And that _is_ an invitation, isn’t it? Reeve is reasonably sure that’s an invitation. Whatever Tseng might say about his current position, he is still an engineer and it’s still his job to overthink things. Still... that fingertip, and that smile, and Tseng’s eyes locked with his sure do look like an invitation. And if it is... well, what else can he do but accept it?

He leans in, lets his lips follow the path Tseng’s fingertip traced, slow and easy. Reeve doesn’t know what kind of cologne he wears, but even its late-evening remnants are downright intoxicating. There’s a hint of leather, and spice, and underneath that there’s something rich and dark he can’t put a name to and can’t get enough of. 

“Where else?” he whispers when he reaches the hollow of Tseng’s throat, and he’s rewarded with a prickle of goosebumps under his lips.

The back of his neck, for starters. 

“It’s sensitive too,” Tseng explains when he turns around and pulls his hair out of the way, sweeping it forward to fall over his chest. “But in the _good_ way.” There’s a shiver and a sharp little hiss of a gasp when Reeve kisses him there, and for a moment he worries that he’s done too much too soon. But then Tseng reaches up, threads his fingers into Reeve’s hair, and gently holds him in place before he can pull back. “Like that,” he purrs, as further reassurance. “Just like that.”

His shoulders, too. The parts Reeve can reach from behind, and the parts he can’t. For now, he trails a few more kisses down the side of Tseng’s neck from this angle, skips over the collar of his shirt, and picks up from there. He can feel the warmth of skin through the fine cotton of Tseng’s black dress shirt, under his lips on one shoulder and his hand on the other, and he decides that if this is as far as he’ll be allowed to explore tonight he’ll be perfectly happy with that.

But it isn’t.

He kisses his way down Tseng’s shoulder, down his bicep, and when he tries to gently lift that arm up to get a better angle he senses resistance. Not the kind of resistance that indicates he’s done something wrong, though. Tseng is clearly into this, if the soft contented noises rumbling low in his throat every time Reeve’s lips touch him are any indication. No... it’s more like... like he just thinks this might not be the best way to go about it.

“This is nice,” he whispers, sitting up a little. “I think it could be nicer without my shirt, though. Would that be all right?”

Oh God. Oh God, _yes_ it would be all right, but...

“This is supposed to be about _your_ boundaries,” Reeve gently reminds him before that can come out. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Tseng leans his head over to give Reeve a little reassuring nuzzle. “Besides. I’ve watched you swim.” He reaches up and undoes a button. “Hardly seems fair that I’ve seen almost all of you when you haven’t even seen me out of my shirt yet.”

His tone is light, almost teasing, and Reeve can’t help but laugh against the back of his neck. “I don’t think ‘waist up and knees down’ counts as ‘almost all of me.’”

“Mm. Those trunks are still tight enough to leave very...” Tseng undoes another button. _“Very_ little to the imagination. Not to mention the miracles they work on your backside.” Another button. “Now, are you just going to sit there and make me do all the work?”

“All you had to do was ask.” Reeve slides his hands around Tseng’s waist. Tseng guides them to the next button and, with that part of the job handled, he reaches down to tug the tail of his shirt free from his slacks. “Before this comes off... is there anything I shouldn’t touch?”

“No. Hands are fine.” Tseng sits up while Reeve gently pulls his unbuttoned shirt open and back over his shoulders, down his arms. “Anywhere, all the way to the belt. Kisses are...” He pauses, searching for the right words, lifting one hand and then the other to slide them out of his sleeves. “I can show you.”

Reeve neatly lays the discarded shirt on the coffee table, unable to take his eyes off Tseng’s bare back. He’s beautiful. Of course he is, lithe and graceful like a dancer, lean muscle under skin that, for lack of any better way to describe it, just seems to fit exceptionally well. But then Reeve notices something that makes his heart clench a little. 

He knows what Tseng does for a living, even if he tries not to think too much about the uglier parts of that job. He figured there might be a few scars under Tseng’s shirt, and there are. Not many, at least not on his back. Only one that looks like it might have been potentially fatal, and that’s more from the location than the size or depth of it. Knowing that it wasn’t fatal in the end doesn’t make it any easier to see the evidence that at some point, someone hurt this man he’s fallen in love with. And that it could happen again, at any time. Reeve doesn’t know what to do about it except wrap both arms around him and hold him tight, like he thinks that’s going to protect him.

“Reeve?” Tseng goes along with it, settling back against Reeve’s chest, but he clearly wasn’t expecting this. “Are you all right?”

“I--yeah.” He loosens his grip a little. “Yeah, just... it’s nothing. It’s okay.” He presses another long kiss onto the back of Tseng’s shoulder, this time without the barrier of a shirt between his lips and that warm skin. 

“Mm.” Tseng shivers, just a little. “That _does_ feel better.”

“So...” Changing the subject, not exactly gracefully, but Tseng at least has the decency to not call him out on it. “Where were we?”

“Since you’re there... my back.” Tseng sits up and sweeps his hair forward again. “There’s a limit, but... again, it’s easier to show than tell on that one. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

There’s no apprehension in his voice, but that also doesn’t sound like the most enthusiastic consent. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Tseng covers one of Reeve’s hands with his own, squeezes, and lets it go. “You’ve been so careful. I know I can trust you.” 

Reeve knows him well enough to know he does not use the word _trust_ lightly, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. He curls his hands over Tseng’s shoulders, figuring that would be a good safe place to put them. And then he leans in to touch his lips to the nape of Tseng’s neck. 

“Start here and work down?”

“Mmhm.”

Reeve kisses him again, a little lower. 

Then a little lower still.

He encounters no resistance, and Tseng makes that little contented noise with every touch of lips to his skin, so he keeps going.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Tseng purrs when Reeve finally works up the courage to kiss him between his shoulder blades, “because I _do_ like it. But you don’t have to be so gentle with me.”

“Maybe I _want_ to be gentle.” Reeve touches one more kiss there. “Maybe I like to go slow.”

“Mm. You’ve said.” Tseng draws in a sharp, shivery little gasp when Reeve inches further down. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but--is there a particular reason?”

“Just... shy, I guess. Mostly.” A little gentle pressure on Tseng’s shoulders invites him to lean forward, granting easier access. “And... I don’t know. I just... don’t like rushing it.”

“Ah. That would be why you said my limits were ‘the opposite of a problem...’”

“Yeah. I’ve dated guys before that...” A little lower. No resistance, no protest, another contented noise. “Meet them in the morning, go out for dinner that night, and then...” A little lower still. Halfway down Tseng’s spine, and he’s still on board with it. “They’d want to go straight to bed and it’s... unsatisfying.” And a little lower. Tseng shivers again, and there’s a bit of an edge to the noise he makes this time, but he leans forward a little more anyway. “It’s like... you want a steak but you get a pack of beef jerky from the vending machine. Going slow just... makes it better when I get there, I guess. If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Tseng curls forward just a bit more, and Reeve trails a few more kisses down his spine. “So you like the buildup as much as the--” He sucks in another gasp but this one is sharp and brittle, the sound someone makes when they touch something unexpectedly hot. _“Stop.”_

Reeve doesn’t even think about what he does when he hears that word.

He doesn’t have to. It’s pure reflex. It might as well be hardcoded into his DNA. He takes his hands off Tseng’s shoulders. He sits up. He scoots back to put a respectful amount of personal space back between them. 

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Reeve?” Tseng glances down at his shoulder, where Reeve’s hand was just a moment ago. Then he looks back, confusion plain on his face. “Are you--oh. No.” He shakes his head and laughs softly. “No, I didn’t mean stop _everything,_ I just meant--”

“Oh.” Reeve lets out a breath he doesn’t even realize he’s holding, and it comes out in a helpless laugh of his own. “Okay. Well...” He tentatively reaches out again, inviting Tseng back into his arms, and finds that invitation accepted in the most direct manner. “Then I guess that’s something you should know about me. If you say anything that even sounds like ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or ‘don’t,’ I stop. Period. No questions asked.”

“Then I’ll have to learn to make myself clearer with you,” Tseng says, settling in against Reeve’s chest. “But now you know where _that_ particular limit is, for next time.”

“Duly noted. What about the front?”

“My chest is fine. My stomach... it depends. What exactly it depends on, even I can’t really say for sure, but it just does.” Tseng’s fingers trail down Reeve’s chest, find a shirt button, and idly pluck at it in a way that suggests at least a casual desire to unbutton it. “You can touch all you want but ask before you kiss.”

“I can do that.” Reeve watches those fingers toy with his shirt button until his curiosity gets the better of him. He curls his hand over Tseng’s, lifts it off his chest, and studies those long, graceful fingers twined in his own. “And these...?”

“Ah. Those.” Tseng pushes himself upright again, but he doesn’t pull his hand out of Reeve’s gentle grasp. “Let me get back to those. First...” He touches a fingertip from his opposite hand to the soft inside of his elbow. “You were heading here earlier, I think.” He trails that fingertip along the inside of his forearm, all the way to his wrist. “Would you like to continue?”

Another invitation Reeve can’t pass up. It’s also getting easier for him to recognize these invitations as such. He lifts Tseng’s hand up for easier access to the soft skin between elbow and wrist and once again, he lets his lips follow the path Tseng’s fingertip laid out for him. There’s another remnant of cologne at his wrist, another hint of leather and spice, and Tseng shivers and hisses in a soft gasp when Reeve’s lips skim over his pulse. 

“Your hands too?”

“Mmhm.” Another shivery breath as Reeve nuzzles his palm, and a sharper gasp when he chances a little flick of his tongue. “And, yes.” Tseng waits for Reeve to finish what he’s doing, then gently repositions his hand to stroke a fingertip across Reeve’s bottom lip. “These too.” 

That fingertip slips between Reeve’s lips, once, then retreats. It does it again and this time he catches it, lets his eyes drift shut and draws it in just a little deeper, teases it with the tip of his tongue and a playful scrape of teeth.

“I could watch you do that all day,” Tseng purrs, low and dark. “There are a few things I’d like to watch you do, actually.” Reeve’s eyes snap open at that, and he lets Tseng’s fingertip slip free. 

Completely unbidden, completely against his will, Reeve’s mind serves up a sort of sample platter of things that might conceivably be found on that list and just thinking about it is almost too much and _hey,_ his mind says, _how’d he get from you sucking on his finger to_ that _anyway, just something to think about_ \--

“Reeve...” He must be sweating, or turning a color, or something. Because Tseng sits up and gives him a funny little look. Part confusion, part amusement, part deep and genuine affection. “You’ve been so considerate about my boundaries. The least I can do is respect yours as well. I know there are places you’re not even ready to talk about going yet. It’s all right.” Tseng strokes his cheek, soft and gentle, and stretches up for a kiss. Not the soul-deep kind that started this whole conversation; it’s almost chaste, just a bare brush of his lips against Reeve’s, and that helps calm his racing thoughts and pulse a little. “I think I’m starting to acquire a taste for men in flannel,” he says as he settles back down against Reeve’s chest, in a tone so light and casual Reeve can’t help but puff out a little breath of a laugh. “On the one hand I’d kind of like to take it off you, but on the other... it’s so _cozy.”_

“Mmm.” Reeve watches Tseng’s fingers toy with one of his shirt buttons again, plucking at the fabric, stopping just short of pulling it free. “Well... I think we could meet halfway on that one, if you want.” He reaches up and undoes the button Tseng is playing with, and then waits for him to get the message.

It doesn’t take him long.

“This should be interesting.” Tseng works his way down, deftly tugging buttons open while Reeve pulls his shirttail free. “Before _this_ comes off... would it be safe to assume you’d be all right on the other end of anything you’ve done for me so far?”

“It would.” Reeve sits up and lets Tseng help him out of his shirt. “Ah--” Tseng starts to toss the shirt onto the coffee table along with his own, but Reeve catches it. “Still need this.” He lays back on the couch again, one arm gently pulling Tseng down with him. Then he wraps his flannel shirt around Tseng’s shoulders like a blanket. “There. How’s that?”

“Oh.” Tseng snuggles down and makes another one of those low rumbling purring noises. “Best of both worlds.” He lifts his head to kiss Reeve’s shoulder again, this time without that layer of fabric between them, and just that touch of lips to his bare shoulder is...

God. How long has it been? 

How long since he’s felt this much warm skin against his own? Too long. Far too long, and even longer since he’s been able to relax and enjoy it in and of itself without worrying about what end his partner might think of it as a means to.

In fact, he thinks, he’d like to enjoy it a little longer.

“Kiss me some more,” he whispers, and Tseng does. Slower this time. Softer. He feels Tseng’s fingertips rest on the side of his neck and the pad of a thumb stroking his cheek. 

“There’s another category to go over,” Tseng breathes against his lips. “The things I don’t mind doing for you.”

“You don’t have to show me right now.” He means it. He hasn’t had his fill of warm skin-on-skin contact yet.

“I get the impression you’re not quite ready for me to _tell_ you about all of them, either.” There’s a soft chuckle, and Tseng settles back down on his chest. “Much less the ones that... well, there are those things I know I wouldn’t enjoy in practice, but I _love_ the theory of.”

“Mm. You mentioned that.” Reeve slides a hand down Tseng’s spine and up again, slow and gentle, relishing the warmth of another man’s skin under his own shirt. “How does that even work, though?”

“I suppose it’s something like...” He’s quiet for a moment, searching for the right metaphor. “Sex on the beach.”

Reeve can’t help but laugh at that, and Tseng rewards him with a soft kiss on his collarbone. “Oh God.”

“The concept of it sounds so _romantic,_ doesn’t it? Warm sea, sunset, palm trees, tide rolling in, all of that. Funny how those pleasant little soft-focus fantasies rarely account for, say... the other tourists. Or the wildlife rolling in with the tide, all the crabs and jellyfish and so on. Or--”

“Or the _sand,”_ Reeve adds, in a tone he hopes doesn’t betray the fact that he has firsthand experience with the sand. He was in college. It was spring break. There was tequila. He would have no other defense to offer if Tseng were to call him on that.

Tseng, thankfully, does not call him on that. “Or the sand,” is all he says. Another kiss to his collarbone, and a nuzzle at the soft hollow of his throat. “When I think about doing those things to you, it’s like that. I know I wouldn’t like actually doing them. But imagining them is just...” He shrugs. “Beach, minus sand and crustaceans.”

“Mm. That makes sense.” It does. Reeve still isn’t sure he really understands, not quite, but when Tseng puts it that way it does make a little more sense. “Would you... not right now, but... would you tell me what you think about sometime?”

“Of course.” Tseng kisses him again. It’s a quick kiss, but when he draws back he nips at Reeve’s lower lip in a way that suggests he’d be happy to. “That would be one form of assistance I’d be glad to offer should you ever feel the need to, ah...” He smiles, slow and a little dangerous. “Take the situation into your own hands, so to speak.”

Reeve does not know how to spell the noise he makes at that. He’s fairly sure a significant portion of his nervous system has just shorted out, and he can feel his cheeks and ears turning red.

“But... as adorable as you are when you blush, and as tempting as it is to see how much more I can make you do it tonight...” Tseng leans down and touches a soft kiss to his reddening cheek. “We can leave the specifics for another time.” He snuggles down and lets out a long, warm sigh against Reeve’s shoulder. “For now, I’m satisfied with just... this.”

“Mm.” Reeve wraps his arms tight around Tseng’s shoulders and lets out a long, contented sigh. “Me too.” 

They’re both quiet for a while. Just enjoying warmth and touch and skin against skin, without the expectation of anything else. 

“Do you feel better now?” Tseng finally asks. 

“Yeah.” He does. Now that he knows where the boundaries lie and what territory is safe to explore, he feels a lot better. 

“Good.” Tseng pushes up on one elbow and reaches up to stroke Reeve’s hair back from his forehead. His own spills over his shoulders, curtaining them both off from the outside world. “I want to kiss you some more.”

“By all means,” Reeve whispers back.

He does. Slow and lazy, deep and hungry, just like the kiss that started this whole conversation.

This time when Reeve’s body reacts, as bodies tend to do in situations like these, he doesn’t worry quite as much about it.


End file.
